Thanks to relief supplies and professionals from The Alliance, Boulder City's new authorities had their most urgent needs met, and the more than five hundred thousand survivors in the city were stabilized as well.
Making a mess was not difficult.
Especially when the lord sitting in the chair was a pig—just grab a stick and bash their heads in.
However, running a settlement of hundreds of thousands was not something a few sticks could solve.
Even the court-appointed profiteers had run off, leaving the inner-city nobles' enormous mess for the victors to clean up.
If the new authorities could not solve the problems of bread and fuel, a bunch of crybabies would soon be bawling out their lords' names.
Survival was an animal's instinct. There was nothing wrong with that.
But giving all the credit to Lord Sid and his kind was surely an insult to themselves.
Once a stable society took shape, it possessed operational inertia under its established order and rules. That was no one person's achievement, yet it was also the achievement of every participant.
If Lord Sid had done nothing, this broken jar might have remained usable for a while. Unfortunately, this genius was both incompetent and fond of meddling. Every so often, he would pick up the jar and shake it like dice; when he chipped a corner off, he would slap on some chewing gum to fool himself, then keep shaking it around.
Now, the jar had finally shattered, just like the collapsed Boulder Building.
The established rules and order had been broken along with it. The foremost problem facing the new authorities was establishing a new order.
The Alliance would provide some help, especially with food.
And thanks to the Administrator's generosity, after making a few compromises with reality for the sake of